"He's just a kid and he never knew that he would be sleeper in the valley so soon"

Saturday, February 23, 2013

OTP Challenge Day 6 - Wearing Each Other's Clothes

Technically not clothes but whatever. I don't really like this one all that much but then I always feel that way after I write something and I never feel like it's "good" or "done" so I suppose it's pointless to say, isn't?

Kissing in this one and suggestiveness of other things...

"Is that my neckerchief?"

Arthur smiled.

"You can't wear my neckerchief."

"And why not?"

"Because it's mine. Won't people ask questions?"

"I don't care."

"Fine," Merlin said, hopping off the bed like a sprite, "then I'll just wear your crown." And he put the gold circlet on his head. Arthur's mouth gaped open, though he'd deny it later - kings didn't gape.

The gold of the crown shone brightly against Merlin's ink pot hair. And though it slipped down a bit further than it should have and was held up by his ears, Arthur couldn't help but think that it suited him perfectly. And he wondered, for the first time, what it would be like to rule beside Merlin.

"You're staring, Arthur,"Merlin said as a blush stained his cheekbones.

"You do, do you?" Arthur said, rising from the edge of the bed and going to stand behind Merlin who was looking at his reflection in the mirror. "Well maybe you'll have a crown of your own someday." It was the first time he'd said anything that really hinted at a long term future. Arthur was the sort of person that cared deeply but didn't always show it. He realized what he'd said and, even though he had meant it, felt a knee jerk reaction to make a joke.

"Idiot," he said, smiling, the word a term of endearment but a feeble joke. He leaned down and started kissing and biting Merlin's neck, who gasped, then chuckled, then sighed.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"If you keep doing that I'll have to wear my neckerchief today. And you won't make it to your training session and your other kingly duties."

"I don't care," he said, his voice low so that it seemed to physically pluck a string in Merlin.

"Arthur." He tried to sound stern but it was impossible.

"Are you complaining?"

"Certainly not. But you are king."

"Fine," he pouted. "And take my crown off, idiot."

"Fine," Merlin said, taking it off and setting it back on the blood red cushion where it had been laying. "I want my own."